Page 66 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘Rebecca, I don’t know how to tell you this,’ she said. ‘But you can’t get married on your wedding day.’
Chapter 29
‘There was a problem with your paperwork,’ Belinda said as I concentrated on breathing. ‘I got a voicemail from the Registry on Friday, but my cat hasn’t been well, so I only just listened to it.’
‘What was the problem?’ I asked, in my steady dealing-with-a-disaster-at-work voice.
‘The intended marriage notice wasn’t properly completed,’ she said. ‘Normally, I check everything. But you dropped it off just before the deadline and I was in such a rush and you two seemed so... reliable. I didn’t check it.’
‘What was the issue?’ I asked. I’d had a bad feeling about Belinda from the minute we’d met – what kind of person used a wine bar for their office?
There was a short pause.
‘You forgot to sign the form,’ she said. I stared at the acid-green wall in front of me for a moment, not knowing what to say. I’d stuffed up the form. I never messed up forms. I always read paperwork from start to finish, and then again just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I was diligent, vigilant even, about things like that.
My brain whirred back to the day I’d been dealing with the forms. It had been the day after I’d had anaphylaxis. The day after Alex had been in my bedroom. The day Matt and I hadspent the afternoon in bed. I’d been distracted that day in a way I normally wasn’t. I hadn’t been totally myself.
My stomach fell. It was my fault. This time I couldn’t blame the curse. This was on me.
‘Can we still get married?’ I asked and braced myself for the response.
‘Maybe,’ Belinda replied, which didn’t fill me with confidence.
‘How can I fix it?’ I asked.
‘You can apply for an exemption to shorten the notice period,’ she said. ‘I’ll provide you with a letter to say I’m willing to marry you on your original date.’
‘Thank you,’ I said automatically. ‘Can I do it without Matt finding out?’ I asked, before I could think of a better way to phrase the question.
‘No, he needs to sign the application,’ she said sharply. ‘And legalities aside, I don’t think the foundation for marriage is a lie.’
‘Yeah, of course,’ I said, chastened. ‘I’ll fill in one of those forms and lodge it tomorrow.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It should take a few days before it’s approved or rejected. Please let me know as soon as you’re informed of the outcome, so we can look at my availability for other possible dates.’
Other possible dates. These words hung in the air after the phone call ended. Our wedding was in less than three weeks’ time. Invitations had been sent out (twice), dietaries gathered, flowers had been ordered, outfits paid for, a honeymoon booked. But apparently none of it would be happening.
I felt sick. I knew that there were options. We could go ahead with our wedding party and get legally married later. Matt would be devastated – I knew that this moment, when we bound ourselves in front of all the people who loved us, was the bit that mattered, the part that meant everything to him.
God, how was I going to tell him that I’d stuffed up like this?
Matt called me as I was grating parmesan.
I’d decided to break the bad news and then apologise profusely as soon as Matt arrived home. I had a plan: I was going to cook (pesto pasta counted as cooking) and make a bright pink mocktail and a bucket of buttery popcorn. Then, I’d mention that there was a teeny palaver with the legal part of the wedding, but that I was totally across it and he just needed to sign a form. And then we’d watch a movie and cuddle up together.
I quickly pressed the green button on my screen, eager to know how far away he was, and how long I had until it was time to break the news of our latest wedding road bump.
‘Sorry. The traffic’s been insane. And I stayed with the guys to pack up the house,’ he said. I smiled despite my pounding heart. Of course Matt had helped clean up after his own buck’s night.
‘Oh, no worries, fine, no rush. Though, I thought I’d cook dinner, so how far away are you? Just so it’s not cold because there’s nothing worse than—’
‘Becs,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’
I took a deep breath, fighting the strong urge to continue to filibuster. ‘Well... um, there’s been a bit of a wedding hiccup,’ I said. ‘But I’ll fill you in when you get home.’
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, and I could hear an undertone of concern enter his voice.
‘Am I on speaker?’ I asked, knowing that one of Matt’s friends was giving him a lift home.
